Sometimes
by therevolutionsayshi
Summary: Jonathan was a lot more fine with Sock than you would think, Sock being a demon and all.
Sock wasn't one that would linger. He was the kind of person, and now demon, to get something done in a short amount of time, no matter the cost. That included killing people, apparently. He killed his parents, his best friend, and all sorts of animals, all with a jaunty attitude, doing it quickly and surely, and then himself in the same sort of manner. He wasn't one to be slow, he wasn't one to take his time. He knew this, of course. Which was why he was terrified, he couldn't do it. And that was quite possibly because Jonathan was the only person that was nice to him.

Jonathan Combs was a teenager. He fit the stereotype and everything, moody, not really caring, and a slight affinity for music. He wasn't anything special, except for being bullied a bit more than others. He wasn't a new idea or concept, he was, in all aspects, a typical teenager. But there was one thing that made him stand out a bit. He had a demon. Literally. Sock followed him around all the time, no one but him seeing him, and doing more harm than good. He had an obsession with telling Jonathan to kill himself, but other than that, Jonathan was okay with him, even thinking of him as a friend, if that made sense.

Once he had gotten used to Sock, Jonathan hadn't really reacted. He just held out one hand and said, "I don't know what I'm gonna do with you." Sock smiled widely, looking slightly more like the Homicidal maniac he claimed to be. Sock had shaken his hand, and since then Jonathan was fine with him staying at his house. And he frequently would.

"Hey, Jon." He would say on the nights he would stay over, always laying on top of him at exactly eleven twenty two every time. Jonathan would roll his eyes, "It's Jonathan," and then he would move over so Sock could get on his bed. Sock would wake him up with a shake of his shoulder on the weekends at five in the morning and on school days he would lie on top of him at one in the morning singing horrible songs. It had become a routine for Jonathan, and he had quite liked it, even though the boy was a demon that was sent to drive him to suicide.

On Saturdays and Sundays, though, Sock was an entirely different story. He would never, ever, say anything about him taking suicide, and instead would smile and call him a nerd. Sock would lean his head on Jonathan's shoulder whenever he could. Sock would act like an almost completely normal kid. But then, sometimes, Sock would be different, somehow. His smiles were kinder. He would laugh louder. He would act almost as if he had a - a crush. The words brought a smile to his face. Sock, the weirdo kid who always seemed happy somehow, having a crush on him, the clinically depressed (although not suicidal) and bullied kid who he had been sent to make commit suicide. It was ironic, really, which was why Jonathan liked the idea. And, okay, maybe he had a small, small crush on the other boy, but don't tell him that.

"Are you okay?" Sock would ask on Sundays. Sundays were the worst for Jonathan. Being told being gay was a sin, and that he was going to Hell, and being told that God hated him really was stressful. Especially when his parents glared at him as they walked out the door to go to church, his father cursing him under his breath. Sock hadn't noticed yet, though, and Jonathan was at least glad for that.

"I'm great." Jonathan would say, his head in his hands, trying to disappear from the world in his hoodie. It really was completely awful, but he could pretend it wasn't bothering him. He could pretend he wasn't gay for a year or two. Sock would raise an eyebrow.

"You don't look okay." He would say. Jonathan's arms and therefore head would collapse on the table, then. Groaning. Maybe he would say it, sometime. He would work up the courage to say 'No, I'm not okay. Both my parents hate me for being part of one fourth of the population, and I'm clinically depressed and you were probably sent here to convince me to kill myself because of that, but I just want you to be happy and I don't think you'd be happy if you didn't torture me everyday.' But that was sometime else. Maybe next week, or next month. But right now, he just wanted to just agree with Sock and get it over with.


End file.
